


A Faceless Wolf is Home

by hold_my_tea



Series: After the War [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, F/M, Future Fic, Ramsay is his own warning, arya was a faceless man, no romantic feelings towards gendry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 05:04:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4693094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hold_my_tea/pseuds/hold_my_tea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arya Stark has returned home form Essos and decides there is something that needs to be done. She has grown but how much has she matured?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Faceless Wolf is Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series. Some things may not make sense unless you read the two tics before this one.

The girl hopped off the boat and scanned the scenery. Her red hair was blowing in the wind coming off the sea. The port was busy with several wagons, horses, and crates being loaded and unloaded from the many ships. Her eyes took everything in and missed nothing. She then saw what she needed. Giving a wave to the captain of the ship she was on, she made a beeline to her destination.

The girl stopped by a vendor and bought a parcel of food but side eyeing her prize. She smiled at the vendor and wandered around the dock a bit more. When she saw an opening she made her way over to the horses that were tied off. When no one was looking she took the dagger from her boot and cut the rope tying the horse to the post and mounted it. Before anyone could realize the horse was missing, the girl was riding off the docks and across the fields.

When the docks were no longer in sight, the girl ran a hand over her face to reveal her short brown hair and ice blue eyes. The girl that was once Arya Stark reached into her bag and fished out the map she took from the ship. She hopped down from the horse and laid the map out on the ground to examine where she could be.

The ship had sailed down the coast of Essos first and then crossed the Narrow Sea after the stop in Pentos. Once the ship was sailing up the coast of Westeros, Arya had to wait until she was at the right port. They had started at Storm’s End and the sight of Westeros was almost enough to make her jump off the ship right there. The ship then sailed to Dragonstone where House Seaworth had taken up since the death of Stannis Baratheon. After that, the ship just sailed along the coast, stopping at small ports to pick up and drop off supplies. Arya reasoned she exited about fifty miles from the Kingsroad in The Bite where the Three Sisters were located.

Arya folded up the map and shoved it back in her bag. She then took a look at her horse. She had picked it specifically as it was a Dornish Sand Steed. Obviously some Lord had wanted it delivered but he would never get it now that it belonged to Arya.

She set off on her horse and when she reached a wooded area near the King’s Road, Arya decided to stop for the night and rest. Slipping into sleep, she slowly entered into her dream of being a wolf. The smell of the earth, fresh blood, and deer, but a new yet familiar smell was in the air. Her feet carried swiftly through the forest, leaving the wild pack behind her for the time being.

Faster and faster she ran, the scent increasing and the smell of horse. Breaking through the brush, Arya looked at what was causing the smell and awoke instantly at seeing herself on the ground. Her eyes flitted to where she was in her dream and noticed a dark shape, a low growl coming from its throat.

Arya didn’t flinch but stood to her feet and squared her shoulders, trying to look bigger despite her small frame. Being away for four year, she had grown taller and her figure was fuller, but she was still little.

The beast advanced and Arya could see in the moonlight it was a massive wolf. Hope suddenly filled her chest. Taking her own steps towards the wolf, Arya smiled, “Nymeria… Come.”

Arya saw the direwolf’s ears perk at her voice and took the last remaining steps. Its head came up to Arya’s chest so that gave it the perfect angle to look up at the girl. “Nymeria…” She said again.

The direwolf then leapt upon Arya and began to lick her face. Arya laughed and rolled in the dirt with her direwolf just like she did years ago.

 

Weeks passed and Arya traveled north with her horse and Nymeria. They weren’t going to Winterfell yet. No. Arya had more pressing matters with the Boltons. After instructing Nymeria to stay in the forest away from the Dreadfort, Arya went the rest of the distance to the keep alone.

She arrived in the dead of night and tied her horse up in the stables. There were several open stalls so she put her horse in one near the end where she believed no one would really look. Donning a new face, a simple girl with long blonde hair and green eyes, Arya went over to another stall and found a clean pile of hay. Curling up, she fell asleep.

The next morning, Arya put her hid her things in the hay and snuck into the keep with her new face and began to wander around. She decided to learn the way the keep was designed over the next few days. She would learn where everyone slept, ate, and shit. She would learn the types of wines people preferred, where the weaponry was kept, and who could be manipulated. When she entered that keep, she was not Arya anymore. She was No One.

 

It took three days for her to learn the full layout. Each day she would wear a different face so she would not be remembered easily. She knew the kitchens were directly below the main hall, the armory was located near the stables but not close enough to the keep to provide aid if needed, and both Lord Roose Bolton and his son, Ramsay, were in the keep.

No One spent her days posing as a serving girl. She would scrub floors and bring food to anyone that required it. It reminded her so much of her days at Harenhall by seeing the flayed man banner everywhere. No One carried her bucket of water and stopped on the steps leading up to Lord Bolton’s quarters and began to scrub. She was trailing him now, learning his routine and when she could get him alone.

She was busy scrubbing the landing just outside his door when he walked out. He gave her a single glance before going on his way. No One noticed he looked thinner, his hair had started falling out and there was a noticeable bald spot on the top of his head, and his skin looked paler now than she last remembered. He looked more a monster now than ever. She watched him walk down the stairs and once he was out of site, she went back to work.

The next day No One cleaned the great hall. She knew Roose Bolton and his son took breakfast together and she would just need to wait and see what time that would be.

There was soon a creaking of doors and No One looked over her shoulder to see it was Ramsay. She was currently in the center of the room, scrubbing one of the long tables, but she could hear plainly that his footsteps were moving around the room towards the dais. She then heard his steps change direction. He was walking towards her.

She stayed focused on her scrubbing but her body remained vigilant of the man. A few moments later, she felt two large hands rest on her hips and her body being pressed against the table by Ramsay. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before. I believe a future lord should know who is in his keep.”

No One didn’t turn around but kept her eyes focused on the table, “My Lord… I have just started working here. My mother sent me here a week ago.”

No One then felt herself being forcibly turned around. Those large hands were not grabbing her ass and his hips were pressed against hers. She could feel him through his trousers. “Don’t you know it’s rude to not look at your lord when he is speaking?”

No One bowed her head and met Ramsays’s eyes. They were just like Roose Bolton’s. “Sorry, My Lord. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Very good…” His hands squeezed her a bit and he seemed to be studying her face. No One felt disgusted but showed so sign of it. “Blonde hair and green eyes… Reminds me of Cercei Lannister. I’ve always wanted to fuck a queen.”

“My Lord honors me with his compliments,” No One responded politely with a red face. Most would take the redness being a blush but No One was feeling nothing but hatred and anger. He would be easy to take care of if this is how he operated.

Ramsay smirked at the girl and inclined his head towards her, “Now… I want you-“

“Ramsay, leave the girl alone and come eat,” No One heard and looked past Ramsay to see Roose Bolton. 

When she took her eyes off of Ramsay, she felt one of his hands move from her ass to her forearm. He then squeezed hard enough to leave marks in the shape of fingers, “And I thought you just said you had learned your lesson,” he whispered in her ear.

“Ramsay,” Roose said again.

“Coming, father. Just giving my farewells,” he called and moved to the dais. As No One left the hall, another serving girl came in with a tray of food. No One noticed the look of pity and fear on the girl’s face.

The next day when she was wearing a face with black hair and blue eyes No One was instructed to leech Lord Bolton.. Arya had done this task before at Harenhall and remembered the pasty white skin of the man’s naked body. Stopping outside of Lord Bolton’s door, No One removed the face she was wearing. She would kill him as Arya Stark and no one else.

She had been given a small bucket of white leeches and it was in one hand while she used the other to push the door open. Roose Bolton was already prepared for his leaching. He was naked but only a sheet covered him for the time being. When he saw Arya enter, he removed the sheet to expose himself fully. “Get on with it, girl.”

“Yes, My Lord,” Arya said in a courteous tone. She needed to keep up appearances for now.

Approaching the edge of the bed, Arya picked out a few leeches and placed them on Lord Bolton’s white skin. They all but blended in with his skin. When the leeches were in place, Arya stepped back and moved to stand near Roose’s desk.

“Don’t just stand there, girl. Bring me wine,” he said while reclining against the bed.

“Yes, My Lord,” Arya said and went over to a table where a flagon of wine and goblet were sitting. She poured the wine and brought it over to the man.

He took a sip and sighed. Arya kept her eyes trained on him. This would be her chance. “Do you know who I am, Lord Bolton?”

“No. I do not care to know. You are a serving girl and nothing more to me, although you are prettier than most,” he said. “Now it is not polite to speak out of turn. I might need to give you over to my son if it continues.”

“Then you must not remember me,” Arya continued. Not bothering with Lord Bolton’s comment. “I was at Harenhall six years ago. I was your cupbearer then. Remember me now?”

Roose eyes shifted to anger for a moment but also remembrance. “I do remember you after all. I could have you killed for what you did then. Maybe I should give you to my son. I wonder what you would look like on the inside.”

“That won’t matter. I’ve come to kill you, Lord Bolton,” Arya stated, voice taking on a slightly angry but forceful tone.

“And why is that? What have I done to you?”

Arya laughed at that and put her hands behind her back. She had her dagger tucked inside her boot right now but she wasn’t going to go for it just yet.

“You killed my family-“

“I’ve had many people killed. Why should I care about the life of a simple girl?” He interrupted but Arya responded by moving over to Roose and pulling one of the leeches off as hard as she could. It had turned pink with blood and Roose hissed at the inconvenience but only gave a look of annoyance at Arya.

“Don’t interrupt. It is not polite to speak out of turn,” Arya said, parroting what he said only minutes before. “You betrayed my family and you had them killed.”

Roose took on a look of curiosity now. “Who are you?”

“Don’t speak out of turn. I might just give you over to my wolf,” Arya growled.

“Who are you? He repeated.

Arya lifted her left boot off the ground and fished out her dagger. She twirled it in her hand once and tapped her finger on the tip. “Me? I am no one special, but you knew my father. Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell.”

Roose’s eyes widened and he tried to move out of the way but Arya was too fast. Before he could get off the bed, she had thrown the dagger and it pierced him in the center of his chest.

Roose rolled off the bed and pulled the knife out. He threw it away but Arya went to pick it up. Blood began to pour freely from his chest and he tried to stop the bleeding. Arya walked over to the side of Roose and knelt down beside him. “I am Arya Stark of Winterfell,” she whispered before sliding the knife across his neck. Arya watched him as his cold eyes drained of what life they contained.

Arya used the skeet on the bed to wipe her knife and dropped it back into her boot. She then picked up the bucket that contained the leaches and dumped the remainder on the dead man. 

With a smile on her face, Arya left the Lord’s chambers and donned the blonde hair green eyed face again. The entire keep was silent except for the retreating footsteps on the Faceless Woman.

 

The next few days were a buzz around the keep. Everyone was confused about how the Lord could have been murdered and no one had seen a thing. A few people mentioned how they had seen a girl with black hair go towards the Lord’s chambers but no one had seen her since. When no sign of her was found, it was assumed she somehow had killed Lord Bolton.

Ramsay had instantly taken hold of the Lordship when he found out his father was dead. He started organizing the funeral immediately. No One witnessed the funeral first hand and it would haunt her dreams. She could never be sure if this was how it was done or if it was by Ramsay’s bidding. 

The body of the dead was placed in the middle of the yard and then all the skin would be flayed off. No One had witnessed animals being skinned before and this made her think back. ‘They treat the dead like livestock,’ she thought to herself.

Once all the skin was gone, a fire was lit and the skin was tossed in, followed by the body. Everyone was forced to watch and could not leave until the fire was out. By the end of the day, the air smelled of burnt meat and smoke.

No One could see Lord Ramsay on the other side of the fire and that his eyes were locked on her. She didn’t understand but only for a moment. She then remembered she was wearing the blonde hair, green-eyed face.

 

Over the next few days, No One made sure to change her face every few hours. She needed to be weary of Ramsay for now as she needed to wait until the keep settled down after the murder of Roose Bolton.

One week after the murder, No One was in the kitchen and she noticed the serving girl that brought Roose and Ramsay their breakfast that day Ramsay had come on to her. No One smiled to herself before donning the blonde face again. No One shifted into a more timid posture and slowly approached the girl.

“H- Hi…” No One said and pulled at her clothing. The girl jumped a bit but gave a tiny smile to No One. “I’m Nym… You were the one who served Lord Bolton his breakfast last week…” No One said and pulled at her clothing.

The girl nodded her head, “I saw what happened between you and Lord Ramsay. I feared for you… I went looking for you but I could never find you…”

“Why would you look for me?” No One replied.

“I thought you went hunting with Lord Ramsey… He takes many girls… I never see them again.” The girl gathered the rest of the food in front of her onto a tray and began to move away.

“I’m happy to see you again, Nym,” she said before running off with her tray.

The next day No One spent the day learning more of Lord Ramsay. She discovered he was bastard born, had a twisted sense of humor, considered even more cruel than his father, and took great pleasure in the flaying of prisoners. No One had wandered close to the dungeons one day and could hear the agonizing screams. It didn’t scare her but she knew to leave immediately.

When night fell on the Dreadfort, No One wandered to the Lord’s Chamber. The blonde hair and green eyes face set in a serene yet confident gaze. With a deep breath, she entered the room and was not surprised to find it empty. It gave her time to finish out her plan.

Looking around, she noticed the blood had been cleaned up. According to the other servants, the leaches covering Roose Bolton had nearly completely drained him of blood so it had been easy to clean.

No One took the knife from her boot and placed it under the pillow but wasn’t surprised to feel another one was already there. Placing her own knife down in her boot, she removed them and placed them beside the bed. She then moved to the center of the bed and sat with her legs crossed. All that was left was to wait.

Almost an hour later, Lord Ramsay came into the chambers. He didn’t look surprised by her presence but more annoyed. “What are you doing in my chambers unannounced?”

No One bowed her head slightly but kept her eyes trained on Ramsay, “I’m sorry, My Lord. I just thought you might like some company tonight. I know what it is like losing a loved one.”

“And what gives you the right to assume such a thing?” Ramsay sneered. He then gave a wave of his hand and sighed, “It’s no matter now that you are here.” He then wandered over to the bed and stood over No One.

“What does My Lord want?” No One asked.

“The Lord wants you to undress immediately,” he smirked down at her and placed his hands on his hips.

No One moved slowly but he was quickly agitated. He went over to the pillow and retrieved his knife. “You are going far too slow.” He then pushed her down and began to cut the clothes away from No One. When she was bear, he ran rough hands over her.

“Do I still look like a queen?” No One asked, sounding a bit nervous for her act.

“Just like a queen…” He said and moved to straddle her. “I fucking hated the queen.” He then slapped No One across the face. She could taste blood in her mouth from the force but made no sound. Without the noise, he only hit her again but still, No One didn’t make a sound.

He tried everything to elicit a sound of pain from her but nothing would happen. He humiliated her, beat her, slapped her, but still she would not do anything. He never did enter her because he found no satisfaction if she wasn’t in pain.

When he finished himself off, he collapsed on the bed next to No One. She was lying on her side, she felt the bruises but she had experienced worse. “Have I satisfied My Lord?”

Ramsay’s face was turned away from her so he couldn’t see that No One had cast off her face and took up Arya Stark once more. “You have. And for that, I am taking you on a hunt tomorrow.”

Arya tossed the face to the side for now and moved to sit on the small of Ramsey’s back. He instantly flipped over and was taken back by the change in her face. “Who the fuck are you?”

Ramsay’s knife was clutched in Arya’s hand at her side. She brought it up to Ramsay’s throat and pressed in to leave a small indention in his skin but not enough to cut him. “Arya Stark of Winterfell.”

She saw the delighted surprise in his eyes appear just as she slit his throat. Her naked form was sprayed a bit with his blood but she grabbed the sheet and cleaned herself off. Examining the knife revealed it was Valyrian Steel with a weirwood handle. Arya decided to keep it as a souvenir.

Slipping on one of Ramsay’s tunics, Arya ran through the keep. She remembered everything Syrio taught her. Swift as a deer, quick as a deer, silent as a shadow, and calm like still water. It was running through her mind as she made her way back out to the stables.

She was just pulling her extra set of clothes on and strapping Needle to her side when she heard someone approaching. Holding the dagger close, Arya peeked out from the stall and noticed a shadow moving around, as if searching. 

Getting into a striking position, Arya readied herself. When the shadow approached, Arya leapt and readied the dagger but paused when she saw who it was. It was the serving girl from before. ‘What is she doing her?’ Arya thought.

The girl was about to scream but Arya covered her mouth before that could happen and rolled off her. “What are you doing out her?”

“Hiding…” the girl breathed, even in the darkness, Arya could see that she was shaking in fear.

“Why? What for?”

The girl then started to cry. She was nearly sobbing and it was hard to understand her. “Lord Bolton… He’s hunting tomorrow… I was told to run and get a head start…”

Arya knew there was something wrong with Ramsey’s hunts but never knew the full extent until this moment.

Arya hushed the girl to keep her quiet and attempt to calm her down. “There will be no hunt. I’ve made sure of it.”

The girl’s eyes widened in surprise but didn’t say anything else. “My name is Tally and I just want to go home…” She was still crying but it was becoming less urgent.

Arya shook her head and mentally slapped herself. Grabbing Tally by the arm, she brought her down to the stall where she left her horse. Arya helped the girl up and then mounted it herself. Without a second thought, Arya urged the horse out of the stables and into the night.

 

The sand steed had remained true despite the extra weight. They had traveled the entire night and half the day when Arya finally stopped the horse near a small village. Arya gave the girl enough coin to buy a horse for herself and enough food to get her home. 

Just as she was mounting her horse once again, Tally stopped Arya. “What is your name? You never told me…”

“My name is Arya.” With that, Arya urged her horse on and towards Winterfell, the place she once called home.

 

Nymeria reappeared at Arya’s side three days after Tally was seen to safety. It took ten more days to arrive at Winterfell. Arya’s horse was five miles from the gates but Arya just wanted to gaze upon the place she called home for a bit. The rounded towers, the large stone walls, and the crisp smell of cold. It was home.

Arya bid Nymeria to go into the Wolfswood while she made the last trek of her journey. She stopped in Winter Town and entered the nearest tavern to listen to the gossip of whores and drunkards. Arya realized long ago they always had the loosest of tongues.

Sitting near a corner, Arya ordered herself some ale and sat back to listen. There were several men already deep in their cups and whores taking advantage. Arya eyed one the whores with long brown hair and deep blue eyes. She was wearing a shift and one of her breasts was exposed to every eye in the room. Arya shot the whore a smile and gestured her closer.

The whore did as she was told and sat on Arya’s lap and her arms went around her neck. “I’m Dalia and who might you be lovely?”

Arya paid no mind to the hand that was beginning to palm at her breast but gave the woman a smile anyway, “Someone in need of information…”

“Just like everything else in here, that is not free,” Dalia smirked and moved the hand from Arya’s breast to her waist.

“And how much would it cost to get information out of you?”

“Depends on how much you want from me and if you have the coin.”

“I do but my coin is currently in your right hand seeing as you nicked it from me,” Arya smiled, finally moving a hand to grab hold of Dalia’s wrist.

“Can’t hurt a girl for trying,” Dalia sighed and moved off of Arya’s lap. She then took Arya’s hand and led her to one of the rooms in the back. Arya made a quick look around in the room and made note at the one window high off the ground, the bed in the middle of the room, a chair in the corner, and the paintings depicting the former kings of Winterfell.

Dalia made sure the door was fastened and grabbed a nearby robe from the end of the bed. She then plopped down and crossed her legs. “Alright, beautiful… Who are you and what do you want to know?”

Arya went to the corner and sat in the chair, the pouch of coins lying in her lap. “Who is currently up in the keep? I’ve been away and haven’t been able to keep up with current events.”

Dalia held out an open palm and Arya took the hint. She fished in her pouch a silver stag and flipped it through the air. Dalia caught it with ease. “Bran Stark is the Lord along with his lady wife, Meera Reed. Although everyone knows it will be his younger brother’s children who will inherit the keep.”

The prospect that not one but both of her younger brothers still lived was almost enough to make Arya run out then and there, but she contained herself for the time being.

Flipping another stag at Dalia, Arya asked her next question, “So the Starks once again hold Winterfell. When I was younger, I heard of their misfortune… Do you know who else is still alive out of them?”

Dalia turned the coin over in her hand and sighed. “I just started working here when Lord Eddard went south… It’s amazing I’m still alive, but I had my ways of getting by. Those Starks were always so noble. It is a shame only those two boys and their oldest sister are left.”

Sansa was alive too? Arya shifted in her seat a bit at the revelation and felt a new wave of happiness.

“Thank you for your time,” Arya said and reached into her pouch once more. She grabbed one of the three remaining golf dragons and flipped it at Dalia. “You have been very helpful to me.”

“Wait! I still don’t know your name,” Dalia said before Arya could leave the room.

“I’m no one…”

 

Arya was inside the walls of Winterfell and currently sitting in the great hall. She had claimed to a visitor from a new house in the north and came to swear fealty to the Starks. Arya spun a story of how she came in her father’s stead as she was his only child and he had caught a fever that made travel impossible. The guards were hesitant but they allowed her to enter the hall.

Arya didn’t have to wait long until four people came in to the hall. One was an impossibly large man that Arya remembered was Hodor. In his arms was Bran and the woman walking along in the green clothing must be Meera Reed. Then the fourth almost made Arya start crying.

Sansa Stark had grown to look so much like their mother. With her bright red hair and soft Tully features made her beautiful to behold but the hardness to her eyes was all Stark. Arya felt a smile come to her face.

Hodor sat Bran down in the high seat and walked off to the side of the room. Meera sat to Bran’s left and Sansa on his right. Being so close to her family made Arya’s stomach turn knots in both fear and happiness.

Bran gave her a quizzical look but Sansa was studying her hard. Arya didn’t know if they could recognize her or not but she only hoped at this point.

Before Sansa or Bran could speak up, Arya said, “Before we start, I just want to say how I am so happy to hear that the Starks are back in Winterfell and-“

Sansa had raised a hand to signal Arya needed to stop talking and she obliged to her sister. “All right… I think you should tell us who you really are.”

Arya was taken back for a moment. ‘Have the figured me out already,’ she thought to herself. “What do you mean?”

“I take a look at you and everything is wrong,” Sansa started. “Although you have the look of a Northerner, your story doesn’t add up. You claim to be from a new house in the North, but we would have been the ones to authorize such a thing unless it was by royal decree. Even then, we would have received word of from King’s Landing of a new hold being given over.”

Bran looked from Sansa then down to Arya. He finally spoke up and Arya could hear wisdom far beyond his years when he spoke in that calm voice. “My sister is right. Who are you and why have you lied to us?”

Arya looked to her siblings on the dais and smiled. Her smile soon turned into a laugh as she kept looking at the now confused Starks. Arya laughed for a full minute before Sansa spoke up again in a slightly annoyed tone, “What is so funny to you?”

“Oh Sansa… It’s finally good to see that you learn to see deceit. And Bran… You have no idea how happy I am to see you again. I have missed you both so much,” Arya said, her laughter dying down and becoming tears.

Everyone in the room looked confused now. Meera grabbed onto Bran’s arm and whispered something in his ear and Hodor just mumbled ‘Hodor’ over and over, but Sansa rose from her seat on the dais and made her way down to Arya’s level.

Arya rose to her feet and looked Sansa over. She moved gracefully across the floor and had adopted the same walk their mother had. When she approached, Sansa’s eyes raked over Arya as if trying to find some sort of flaw. “Who are you?”

Arya rolled her eyes and smiled, tears still in her eyes, “Have I changed that much? I suppose my hair is shorter than when we last saw each other in King’s Landing and I have a more womanly shape but I’m still your sister.”

Sansa looked as if she had been slapped in the face and Bran sat up straight at the development. The sudden flash of realization on Sansa’s face made everything come out at once. The two sisters suddenly wrapped themselves in the arms of each other and wept for the joy of being together once again.

“I- I’m so sorry Arya…” Sansa sobbed into Arya’s shoulder.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Sansa smiled through her tears.

“Stupid,” Arya laughed but only held onto Sansa all the tighter.

 

The raven had arrived three days beforehand and it had been a matter of serious debate between everyone in the small council room. Arya had only been back at Winterfell for three months and everything seemed to be rushing at her and this raven was the biggest yet.

“So with Jon denying the offer… That only leaves one of you…” The large woman who Arya learned was named Brienne.

Arya and Sansa looked at each other with the same frown on their face. Arya was still coming to terms with the fact Jon was not her half brother but a cousin. Bran had given her their Aunt Lyanna’s journal and the truths it held was a shock to every Stark child. 

“We have to answer. It’s a royal decree,” Bran said from his seat at the head of the table.

“We know… It’s just a lot to take it. I understand us going south to swear fealty but doing that,” Sansa sighed and placed her hands in her lap, trying not to fidget.

The Hand on behalf of Queen Daenerys had sent the raven from King’s Landing. According to it, the Starks were urged to come to the capital and swear fealty before the throne so as to bind the Seven Kingdoms once again. It was the final part that had the group in a fit.

Arya looked to her sister. She had heard of the many people she had been in line to marry over the years and all had been with horrid people. She couldn’t let her go through that again and she wouldn’t let her.

“I’ll do it. I’ll marry the him…” Arya blurted before another word could be said. All eyes turned to her, all with mixtures of surprise and the most surprised being Sansa.

“Arya… Are you sure?” Sansa asked.

“You deserve to be happy, Sansa. These years have been hard on us all but you need to marry someone for love not for duty because winter is coming.”

Their mother’s house words had been ‘Family, Duty, Honor’ and Sansa had abided by those all her life. She needed to be careful for herself and allow freedom. Winter was coming for them all and Sansa needed to prepare for that day and not be so self sacrificing all the time. It was time Arya sacrificed something herself.

Bran let out a sigh but no one could tell if it was relief or contempt. “Arya… This is your choice. You are sure about this?”

“No, I’m not sure, but I have to do what is right and that means sticking up for the family I nearly lost,” Arya snapped at Bran. She then shot an apologetic look and sighed, “Sorry. I just never thought I would have this kind of choice after everything that has happened.”

Bran nodded at his sister and sighed again. “Alright… I’ll send a reply…”

Arya nodded and rose to her feet. As she passed by Brienne’s chair, the woman reached out and grabbed Arya’s wrist. She gave a soft smile and nodded to Arya. “You sounded like your mother.”

Arya returned the smile and nodded in return. “Thank you, Brienne.”

 

When Queen Daenerys replied, it was decided Bran and Rickon would stay behind but several guards and Brienne would accompany Sansa and Arya to the capital. Bran was worried about the size of the convoy but Sansa had put his fears at ease. She claimed to have seen Arya and Brienne practicing together in the yard along with the other men and thought them more than capable for defense. Arya had only nodded and agreed with her sister before mounting her horse and following in beside Brienne and Sansa. 

A few hours after setting off, Arya pulled her horse to ride next to Sansa and smiled. She had realized since she had been back, they had not had any time to talk with each other about what the things that happened.

“Sansa… Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Arya.”

“What happened? Where did you go after Joffrey’s death?”

Sansa pursed her lips for a second as if debating if she even wanted to speak. She bowed her head slightly and began. “I was smuggled out of King’s Landing with the help of Petyr Baelish. He took me to the Eyrie where I was posing as his bastard daughter. He then married Aunt Lysa who he then killed soon after… 

“He took over the Eyrie. He claimed it was all in the name of our family… After everything he did, I thought her was right, but… But he only said those things to make me feel better. He said those things because I looked like out mother. He loved her, Arya. He was obsessed!

“Although he did help me. I learned deception and strategic planning. He taught me so much and it helped me gather forces to reclaim Winterfell from those Boltons! They fled back to their keep and once I had Winterfell, I rode back for the Eyrie. Once there, I put Littlefinger on trial for murder and treason. I had him killed the same way he killed Aunt Lysa.”

Arya listened with intensity. The way Sansa’s voice went from sadness to anger made Arya realize why her eyes had taken on the harshness. She had to have that so to stay strong.

Once her story was over, Sansa gave a warm smile to Arya. “What of you? What happened to you over the last five years?”

Arya had been prepared for this. Arya took a deep breath and told Sansa what happened after father had been killed. How Yoren had cut her hair and planned on taking her to Winterfell but he had been killed. She told her sister of Harenhall and Gendry and Hot Pie. She talked in detail of the Brotherhood without Banners. Arya then went on to the Hound and how they ended up as traveling companions for a time. She told her the truth about how she left him.

When she got to Braavos is when she became less truthful. She only gave half truths by providing tales of jobs she performed while working assignments for the House of Black and White. Se talked of selling oysters and becoming a mummer. She mentioned how she once joined in with a group of entertainers and a swordsman among them helped her better her Water Dancing.

Arya finished her tale by saying she kept tabs on the gossip of Westeros and when thought it safe to return, she hopped aboard a ship and sailed back home.

Through her entire tale, Sansa had looked speechless and it even received surprised looks from Brienne. “You travelled with the Brotherhood? Thank the gods you made it out of there in time, Arya!”

“What do you mean? What happened to them?” Arya replied, mild worry in her voice. Despite what they did, she did grow to like them.

“Their appointed leader, Lady Stoneheart… She was not natural… S- She was your mother. Brought back to life by Thoros of Myr. Her mind… Her mind was gone. She began to punish innocents and there were bands sent to hunt them down. Most were captured… I was among those that hunted them. Lady Stoneheart fell the day we found them.” Brienne looked weary of this tale. Not knowing how Arya would react.

Arya was saddened with what happened to her mother once again but she had lain eyes on Thoros of Myr and what he did to Beric Dondarrion. He was not supposed to be alive and if he did that to Catelyn Stark… It wasn’t her mother that died.

“Among those captured… Were any of them a smith? Black hair with blue eyes?” Arya muttered.

Brienne closed her eyes to remember and nodded, “Yes… I remember him.”

“Do you know where he is?”

Arya kept her eyes trained on Brienne and saw a smile come on her face. “He was given a pardon. He was never the one who came forward and led my troops to the Brotherhood’s location. He knew he was a turn cloak for what her did but he thought it would save more lives than it would cost. Last I heard, he was in King’s Landing, working steel.”

Arya nodded and smiled at the thought. “Thank you, Brienne.”

“No need for that, Lady Arya.” Brienne replied with a neutral expression.

The next few weeks passed without incident. Sansa, Brienne, Arya, and a few guards would sit around fires at night and swap stories and some would attempt to sing. Arya once tried singing but that was quickly stopped. During one of these nights, Nymeria made reappeared after having gone hunting a week before and not being seen. That night, Arya had slept along side her wolf. 

It was the next morning that Arya had sent Nymeria on ahead for safe keeping in case anything were to happen.

As everyone else packed up their things, Arya walked over to Brienne who was looking at a map. It was a finely detailed map of the continent of Westeros with all the regions colored to indicate the area it belonged. The roads were also carefully drawn and the long line down the center was the King’s Road. “Where would you say we are, Brienne?”

“Here,” she pointed with a gloved hand, “We should reach the Inn of the Crossroads by tomorrow.”

Arya chuckled at that. The last time she was there, she had killed a man.

 

“Now go to your promised husband,” Queen Daenerys smiled. Arya nodded and approached Aegon who took her arm and led her out of the throne room. Casting a look over her shoulder, she saw the confused look of Sandor Clegane and that made her smile.

Once out of the throne room, Aegon let out a sigh of relief and turned to Arya. “I fucking hate this thing,” he groaned and pulled at the collar of his tunic. Arya noticed how tight it hugged Aegon and chuckled.

“I know exactly what you mean…” She pulled at the bodice of her own dress and smiled. She hated wearing dresses but knew with what was going on, it would be better to wear one.

“Well then, there is one thing we already have in common… We hate looking like nobility,” he smiled and took Arya by the arm once more and began to lead her around.

“Prince Aegon, from what I’ve heard, you spent most of your life in Essos, much like your aunt. What did you do in that time?” Arya pondered, her free arm gently swinging as they walked.

“I was raised to be a king. I knew who I was and what I could someday become. I knew what my father did and what led to me being smuggled out of the country. My time in Essos was for shaping me into a man who could rule,” he dramatically boasted and beat on his chest for effect. It only made Arya laugh.

“And what is it that you learned in Essos?”

“War tactics, history of Westeros, numbers, and other things a ‘Lord should know’,” he paused. The way he spoke made it seem like he had been given this sort of speech multiple times on what he needed to learn growing up. “I can speak Bastard and High Valyrian, common tongue of Westeros, Dothraki, the tongue of Braavos, and a few more languages of Essos,” he finished.

Smiling to herself, Arya said, “Very impressive, Prince Aegon, but I think I am far more impressive.” She didn’t talk in the common tongue but instead replied in Valyrian. The look on his face was enough to make Arya laugh again.

“And where does someone like you learn High Valyrian with such clear pronunciation?” he asked, sending her a playful look out the corner of his eye.

“A lady must have some secrets. Even from her promised husband,” Arya replied, nose sticking up in the air dramatically like a mummer.

“What about your king?” Aegon replied.

“Especially the king.” That time in the tongue of Braavos.

“You are the most unusual girl I have ever met,” he sighed with a shake of his head.

“And there is still so much about me you haven’t learned from me yet,” she smiled and took a few steps out in front of him. The final tongue she used was Dothraki.

Returning to the common tongue, Arya took Aegon’s arm once again.

As they walked, they shared stories from their youth and realized they weren’t that different in some pursuits. Although they went about them differently, their interests were something they could rely on.

Apparently Aegon hated the fancy clothes because he had grown up constantly moving so there was no need for the silks. He was more comfortable in wool and leather. Arya agreed she would rather be in trousers than dresses because they got in the way of her Needlework.

Aegon tried to make a jibe about needle working but Arya shushed him by pulling Needle out to show him. When her dresses were being made, she had instructed a hidden flap to be sewn on the right side of her dress to allow Needle to be concealed in the skirts in case she was to ever need it. And this was a moment she believed it was needed.

“May I?” He asked, holding out a hand for the sword.

Arya looked at the sword and sighed before handing it over but not without some feeling of worry. She never truly felt like herself unless Needle could be near her.

Arya watched Aegon turn the sword over in his hands and tested the weight. He ran his thumb over the blade to test the sharpness. Handing the blade back, he asked, “Who gave that to you?”

Arya slipped Needle back into its hiding place in her skirts. “My br- my cousin, Jon Snow… Your half brother,” she mumbled.

Aegon’s lips pursed for a second and nodded. “You sound like you were close with him.

“Always was. Out of all my brothers, I always thought him as the one I could rely on for anything. In a way, I have and it thanks to that sword.” Arya let a small smile cross her lips before standing up straight and putting those thought to the side for now.

“So, do you have a blacksmith in the keep or do you use the Street of Steel for all the crown’s needs?” Arya asked as they walked outside and onto a walkway. There was nothing on their sides to keep them from falling off, so Arya found herself sticking a little closer to Aegon.

“The Street of Steel, but I have one shop I favor. The Smith there makes the best steel in the city,” Aegon smiled.

Arya found herself scowling, thinking of Gendry and how Brienne said he was on the Street of Steel. “What’s the shop? I’m sure it can’t be the best steel.”

“Owned by a man with dark hair. You’d know him if you seem him. I think his name is Waters. Now that is something rare to see, a bastard with their own shop, but it just shows how good he is,” Aegon continued but Arya just laughed. She knew of only one dark haired smith with the name of Waters. She just didn’t truly think he would be the crowned prince’s favorite smith.

Arya looked around at their surrounding and marveled at the Red Keep. She had explored several of its secrets while young but now would be her chance to discover them all. Looking up at one of the towers, she noticed a familiar face and turned back to Aegon. She thought Sandor could just have his own time to think.

 

After she had bid goodbye to Sandor and released him from his vows, Arya walked out into the training yard where she saw Aegon hard at work with one of the kingsguard. The kingsguard wore no armor or white cape and their tanned skin was of Essos. In place of the white armor, he wore a white painted vest and their weapon of choice was an arakh.

Arya watched the two men fighting and became a little worried about the copper skinned man until she saw the arakh come swinging and around and knocking Aegon to the ground. There was a yelp of pain then laughter from the fallen Aegon. The copper skinned man then laughs and helps the prince to his feet. When he spoke, Arya knew what he was. “If you had a braid, I’d be taking it,” he said in Dothraki.

“I have a braid. Why not try for mine?” Arya said when she approached. 

Both men looked up in surprise at seeing her. Before the Dothraki could respond, Aegon cut in, “I don’t think that is wise. This is Rakharo. He is a ko for my aunt and lived his most of his life as a warrior on the Dothraki Sea.”

“And I am needed by my Khaleesi. Ride well, khalakka and khalakki. It is also good to see know someone else versed in the tongue of the Dothraki,” Rakharo said before departing the yard.

Arya knew the meaning of what he called her but how had he known she was the one to marry Aegon? She wasn’t a princess yet but he still called her khalakki. The word almost made Arya cringe. She didn’t want to be a princess but it was her duty to her family. This was her fate despite getting along with Aegon.

Turning to Aegon, Arya scowled, “And what makes you think I can’t handle myself?”

Aegon through up his hands in a gesture to say he didn’t mean anything. “I just meant that he has been trained his whole life to fight. I have trained with him and I have never beat him…”

“Then why not try your hand at me?” Arya smiled and went over to where the practice swords were. She was wearing britches and a leather jerkin today. Aegon had said he didn’t care what she was wearing as long as she felt comfortable. Of course there would be restrictions when they were required to attend court.

“It wouldn’t be proper for me to fight a lady,” Aegon said while placing his own practice sword up but he was stopped quickly by Arya thrusting her own out to block the way.

“It wouldn’t be a proper fight if I were to hit an unarmed man.” Arya replied, a smile dancing across her face.

“Arya, please…”

“Aegon, now…

In the next second, Arya saw everything as if it was slow motion. The practice sword in Aegon’s hands flew up but she easily twirled out of its way with the grace of a water dancer. The next swing was blocked with an upstroke from Arya. Her arms were like the pushing and pulling of tides in keeping Aegon away for the time being but she would need to go on the offensive soon.

The next time Aegon tried to swing his sword around, Arya saw her opportunity. She sidestepped his overhand attack and swung back . He managed to block it but now it was her turn for attacking. She would thrust, swing, and spin to get any opening she could. She also noted he was tiring quickly. His fight with Rakharo had taken up too much energy. 

Arya realized she would win but it didn’t seem right at this point. She was in a downward stroke but stopped it right before Aegon could block her. “We are done,” Arya said while wiping the sweat from her brow.

Aegon was breathing heavily but a smile on his face. “Come on. I’m just getting warmed up.”

“We are done here, Aegon,” Arya said before walking over to put her sword away. 

She didn’t realize how long they had been at it until she saw the small crowd gathered near the edge of the yard. A few guards and knights were all watching them and she saw a few hiding smiled. Looking down from a window above the men in a gown of black lace with rubies sewn into the fabric was the queen. She had a stern look on her face and was staring right at Arya.

Arya knew what that meant and sighed, she pushed through the crowd of men and went in search of Queen Daenerys. Instead the Queen found her first. Arya had gone in the throne room but found it empty. She was about to leave when Arya saw the Queen walk through the door near the back of the throne.

The Queen’s eyes were fixed like daggers but she had the gentlest smile on her face. “Lady Arya, join me in the small council chamber please.”

Arya dutifully followed behind the queen through the castle until they arrived in a room where a man with a forked beard and hair dyed blue, Tyrion Lannister occupying the Hand’s chair. ‘That was once my father’s chair,’ Arya thought before going to the next person. It was a young girl about the age of Arya with dusty skin and golden eyes. The fourth person in the room was an elderly man with long white hair, Arya thought she recognized him but couldn’t place his name. The fifth person was something Arya recognized from Essos as an Unsullied. The sixth person at the table was an effeminate plump man with a powdered face and no hair. The last was the Grand Maester. Arya didn’t know his name yet but she knew who

“Lady Stark! Welcome to the small council chamber of the Queen,” Tyrion Lannister said from his seat. The chain of office hung around his neck that too once belonged to her father. “Please. Let me introduce everyone to you.”

He went around the room and she made sure to remember everyone’s name. The man with the blue hair was Daario Naharis and the Unsullied was named Grey Worm. They acted as leaders of the city guard and armies. Then the girl with the golden eyes was named Missandei, she acted as a translator, handmaiden, and advisor to the queen. Then came the white haired man. Once his name was uttered, Arya recognized him as Barristan Selmy. He was the acting Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. The Maester was revealed to have the name of Lucas. He had been assigned as Grand Maester by the citadel and was becoming close friends with the final man. The last one in the room was Varys, the Master of Whispers.

Arya greeted all of them with courtesy and took a seat near the end once she saw the Queen take her seat at the head. She fidgeted a bit and wondered why she would be called to such a council.

“Lady Arya,” the Queen began, “Do you know why I have called you to the small council today?”

“No, Your Grace,” Arya said with a shake of her head.

The Queen set her hands on the table and looked to each member of the small council then back to Arya. She looked to Tyrion who nodded before speaking. “You are here today because we are all a bit confused. We heard you have spent the last few years in Essos. We just want to hear your story of how you managed.”

Arya felt a minor rush of relief but she couldn’t understand why. Shrugging a bit, she told the same story as she told Sansa and Brienne while on the road to King’s Landing. It didn’t escape her gaze how Varys and Tyrion would exchange glances across the table as if having a silent conversation. It unnerved her just a bit.

When she finished her story, Missandei, Ser Barriston, Daario, and Maester Lucas all seemed to have an intrigued expression, but the Queen, Grey Worm, Tyrion, and Varys were stoic in reactions.

“How did you afford passage to Braavos? The H- Lord Clegane was practically a beggar then. He certainly wouldn’t have had the coin for such a thing,” Tyrion said, a smile dancing across his face.

This was one thing Arya thought it safe to tell. “I- I was given a coin by someone while at Harrenhall with the Boltons. He said to give it to someone from Braavos and tell them a phrase.”

“What phrase was it?” The Queen asked, face still impassive.

“Valar Morghulis,” she said. With the utterance of the phrase, everyone’s eyes jumped and bore into the girl. Arya suddenly felt small again but knew she needed to keep a straight face. She had been trained for this and would need to keep her story straight.

“Valar Dohaeris,” Arya heard Missandei, Grey Worm, and Daario all say at once. She smiled at each before returning her attention to the Queen.

“Lady Arya… Do you know what sort of coin the man at Harrenhall gave you?” The Queen asked.

Arya knew. She knew exactly because she would lay awake at night and trace her finger over the coin and stare at it in the daylight until she knew every scratch and design put on it. “No. I don’t recall. Just a rusted iron coin.”

“I see… she said and looked to her counsel once again. “That will be all, Lady Arya. We thank you for your counsel and your tale. You may leave now if you so desire.”

Arya rose from her chair and gave a small bow to Daenerys. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

As Arya turned on her heels to leave, she heard the queen call over her shoulder once again, “And if you wish to fight with my nephew again, do it somewhere other than the yard. I doubt he would appreciate being bested in front of a crowd.” 

Arya turned around to see that the Queen had a smile on her face once again. Arya smiled in return and said, “I shall do my best to remember that.” Arya then left the small council chamber and sighed once she was back in her own room.

The next day was mostly spent in the company of handmaidens. Arya was dragged around all day and they would talk nonstop of the coming wedding. They would ask questions about what Arya would like to do for her dress and the reception or who should be invited. The talk was nonstop and Arya thought she would have to rip her ears off when she noticed a familiar face approaching.

“Lord Tyrion,” Arya called out, mild look of pleading on her face. “It’s so good to see you after the chat we had yesterday.” She only hoped he took the hint.

“Why yes, Lady Arya. I have thought it over and wanted to speak with you more. Why don’t we walk and you can continue planning your wedding later,” he smiled and offered out a hand.

Arya accepted it and bid her courtesies and goodbyes to the handmaidens. Once Arya and Tyrion were out of sight of the handmaidens, Arya groaned and leaned back against the wall. “They are just so… ugh. I could use a drink.”

Arya looked to the dwarf who had an amused smile on his face. “Better get used it. It’s going to be like this until the wedding then the real responsibilities will come in.”

Arya shot Tyrion a dirty look but he only laughed at here. The laugh made his face crinkle and caused the place where his nose should have been to become more prominent than it already was. Arya didn’t think much on it as she was just happy to be away from those maidens.

“I must thank you, Lord Tyrion. I didn’t know how much more I could take,” Arya said, straightening herself from the wall.

“Tis no trouble at all, Lady Arya. Please allow me to escort you for it wouldn’t be proper to let you go wandering around by yourself.”

She was about to protest but then thought otherwise. She was a lady in the capitol and would need to look the part. “That would be very kind of you, My Lord.”

His smile didn’t escape her eyes. 

They mainly walked in silence, only speaking to make a smart comment about a passing guard or a quip at each other. It wasn’t long till Arya saw the entrance to the Godswood. She led the way inside and wound her way until she found the heart tree. 

It made her sad to not see a weirwood but a huge oak instead. She felt that the old gods couldn’t see her from here. Going to the tree, Arya sat down among the roots and sighed while Tyrion remained standing.

“What is it you wanted to talk about, Lord Tyrion?” Arya asked while reclining her head against the bark of the tree.

“Excuse me?” He replied, taking a step back.

“The Godswood is the one place where we can talk in private, and I know you have someone already here. I could hear their slippered feet following us since we entered here,” Arya said with a slight roll to her eyes.

Arya could see the smirk on Tyrion’s face growing, “Well now… The girl is as observant as she is smart. No wonder you are a competent liar.”

Arya sat up straight and glared at Tyion. She was about to speak out when she saw their other awaited party emerge from behind the trees. The powdered face, green silks, and bald head of Varys was smiling sweetly at the two of them.

“Hello, Lord Varys,” Tyrion said to the man.

“Hello to you too, Lord Tyrion,” the eunuch replied.

When Varys spoke, Arya had a flicker of remembrance in her mind. His voice sounded so similar but she couldn’t place where she had heard it before. She couldn’t remember meeting him while in King’s Landing when she was little but something about his voice made her think.

Standing to her feet, Arya brushed off her skirt and patted the fold in her dress to see if Needle was in its place. It was.

“Lord Varys, Lord Tyrion… Might you two tell me why you wish to speak with me?” She asked while crossing her arms.

“Not much banter with this one, Tyrion. She likes to get to the point. I kind of like that,” Varys said. His eyes scanned over Arya, as if trying to find something wrong.

“Again. I am waiting…” Arya said.

Tyrion and Varys exchanged a look and smiled. They then both turned their heads o look at Arya. It was Tyrion who spoke first this time. “Your story you told the small council… What parts are you not telling us?”

“I told all of it,” Arya stated, she was steadily transforming back into No One, the perfect liar.

“You see… My associate and I don’t believe that, Lady Stark,” Varys answered in turn.

“Well you and your associate should stay out of my business,” Arya snapped.

“So the wolf truly does have fangs,” Tyrion said and wandered closer to Arya. “Please… We mean no harm, just the truth is what we seek.”

“I told you every-“

“Please stop it. I’ve been at the lying game for far longer than you and I know when someone is lying to me,” Varys said with a very annoyed expression.

“Fine. I told you everything I am willing to tell.”

Tyrion pinched the space between his eyes and Varys picked at one of his nails. They were both just toying with her now. “Varys… Is there time anyone in Braavos or along the coast of Essos that can verify the girl’s story?”

“Might be difficult but I’m sure at least a few of my little birds would remember seeing someone like her.”

Arya stared the men down. No one would have recognized her then. She would change her face and never tell the same story twice. What game were they playing at?

Tyrion pinched his chin and made a puzzled look. “Then again… It would be very difficult to identify a faceless man.”

Arya stumbled back and tripped over the roots of the heart tree. She fell on her bottom and looked at the two men. They had known? They had known and she just confirmed their theory with her stupid reaction. 

Promptly standing to her feet, she eyed them both with intensity. “Don’t tell a soul. I don’t know how you knew but I am not a faceless man anymore. I ran the first chance I got and came straight home.”

“We don’t doubt it, but there is something you can do for us and the small council,” Tyrion mused to the Stark girl.

Did they all know? She felt worried and about what her past would do to her now. Arya would do anything to keep what she did from getting out to her family. Squeezing her fists tight, she nodded at Tyrion. “What do you ask of me?”

She had all these ideas of what they would make her do. She thought this would destroy her and these two men would be the cause of it. 

“We would like for you to keep Aegon happy. That’s why we won’t be telling him,” Varys smiled to Arya.

Her fists unclenched and she adopted a confused expression. That was their request? No assassinations or espionage? She felt utterly perplexed. “T- That’s it?”

“That’s a part of it,” Tyrion continued. “Once the wedding is over with and you are crowned a princess, do try and give the realm an heir.”

Arya couldn’t understand what was happening. She thought what she was doing in King’s Landing was to get married and produce an heir. All they really wanted was for the prince to be happy?

“I- I don’t understand… Why all the secrecy of this talk?” Arya questioned the men.

They both smiled at one another again and Tyrion stepped aside to let Varys explain. “Because, Lady Stark, this isn’t about doing one’s duty. This is about what is going to make the next generation of Targaryens and Starks last. Try to be happy, Arya. And the secrecy… We were just having some fun. We knew you were a faceless man from the moment you talked about the iron coin. The Queen was the one who first brought it up. Although she has reservations about a former assassin in her midst, she claims that you seem honorable and trustworthy.”

Arya watched the two men leave the Godswood together. She stayed behind and looked up into the leaves of the heart tree and pursed her lips tightly. She hated the tree more now than ever for she truly wanted to pray to her father’s gods.

Reaching down to her boot, she pulled out a knife and began to carve into the trunk of the Oak. It was far too small and ugly, but by the time she finished, the heart tree had a face carved into it.

She left the Godswood right after and went back to her chambers to think of what Varys had said. He said it was more than just duty but happiness as well. Why should he care about her happiness? She shook her head and crashed on the bed. She didn’t go to dinner that night as she decided to fall asleep.

The next morning, Arya donned a simple brown dress of wool and a cloak. She then went in search of a guide. She didn’t need one to go out into the city but the small council wanted her safe and to keep the prince happy. She doubted anyone would be pleased with her going off into the city alone.

She was happy to run into Ser Barriston walking the halls and heading towards the throne room.

“Ser Barristan,” Arya called out to the knight. He turned towards her voice and gave a warm smile. “I would like for you to accompany me into the city, please.”

“If you wish, but I must check on the Queen first,” Arya nodded and walked with him to the throne room where Queen Daenerys was meeting with a few minor lords. Ser Barristan gave his leave for the day and she gave her permission.

Once beyond the gates of the Red Keep and into the city, Arya felt a minor sense of relief flood over her. She never realized before how constricting those walls felt around her.

Her first order of business was to head to Flea Bottom. Arya led the whole way to the sector of the city. Once their, she wandered around until she found the nearest orphanage and wandered inside. She kept her hood up and instructed Ser Barristan to wait outside. She saw a donation box and wandered over and emptied half of her purse into it.

When she wandered back out, she smiled at Ser Barristan. “That was a nice thing you did, but may I ask why?”

“After what happened to my father, I lived on these streets for weeks. I was always hungry and I hate seeing children suffer. Too much of that going on,” she said.

After she did that, she wandered back towards the finer end of the city until she could hear the pounding of hammers on steel. She smiled to herself at the sound. She would occasionally peek into one of the shops on the Street of Steel. It was an incredibly long street so she didn’t know how many she would have to look in.

The street kept a wide berth around the Great Sept of Baelor but seeing it only brought back bad memories. She just wanted to find his shop and leave.

She was about to just call it a day when further down the street, she noticed a carved wooden sign in the shape of a bull’s head. She felt the smile form as she ran the rest of the way there. She waited for Ser Barristan to catch up before the two wandered into the shop.

The inside was incredibly hot from the forge and all sorts of manner of weaponry and armor lined the walls. Going over to the wall, Arya plucked one of the swords from the wall and smiled. Although heavier than Needle, the feel of it in her hand was almost natural. She gave it a twirl and a quick thrust before putting it back.

Arya then wandered over to a suit of armor with a helm fashioned into a fox. She was reaching out to touch it when a muffled voice came from behind her. “Can I help you?”

Arya spun around and looked at the man who had came into the front of the shop. He had a cloth over his mouth and nose to protect them from smoke. He was wearing a thick apron and a long sleeved wool shirt that looked to be soaked through. His hair was the same black color and his eyes were the same as well. It really was Gendry Waters.

Arya nodded and stepped up to Gendry. The look on his face revealed he didn’t recognize her. Why would he? She was a woman grown and had lost all resemblance to the little girl he had met traveling with Yoren.

“I would like a sword. I want it to be the length of my arm and that includes the hilt and pommel, but it should be small enough to hide beneath the skirts of a dress,” Arya explained. Needle was her sword but it was becoming too small for her to use properly. It was made with a child in mind but Arya was no child anymore.

“Now is this going to be for you?” He asked. He then looked over to Ser Barristan in his white Kingsguard armor. “Oh! I’m sorry, your grace. I didn’t realize…”

“I’m not royalty yet, stupid so don’t act like that,” Arya said with a roll of her eyes.

“Excuse me?” Gendry was a little taken back by Arya’s comment.

“Do you really not realize who I am? I guess you are still that bull headed boy,” she shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest. “I mean really, Gendry? I haven’t changed that much, have I?”

Arya loved seeing the realization form over Gendry’s face. In the next instant, she was being pulled into a tight hug by a laughing smith. “Seven hells! Arya!? I never thought I’d see you again.”

“Good to see you too, Gendry.” Arya laughed and hugged him back.

When he finally released her, she took a step back and examined him closely. He finally removed his mask and looked to Ser Barristan, “What’re ya doin with a white cloak, Arya?”

“I’ve been promised to Aegon. Our wedding is in two months time,” Arya explained and looked him over once more.

Before Gendry could even attempt a response, Ser Barristan stepped between them. “Your name… Waters, correct?”

“Yeah…”

“And who was your father?” he continued.

“Ser Barristan!” Arya said, shocked by his intrusion.

“I don’t know and frankly don’t care, ser,” Gendry responded, the picture of calm.

Ser Barristan nodded and stepped away. “Pardon my intrusion. You just looked familiar is all…”

Arya glared at the knights for a moment then sighed. “I’m sorry, Gendry.”

“No worries. Not the first time it’s happened and won’t be the last,” he shrugged and moved his hands to his hips. “Now… Tell me about this sword you want.”

By the time Arya had left Gendry’s shop, they had drafted plans for a new sword for herself and one as a wedding gift for Aegon. Her own would have a direwolf head pommel with saphires for eyes. The second sword was at the urging of Ser Barriston. It was to be a bastard longsword with a dragonhead pommel and a black diamond in the mouth.

Gendry said the swords would be ready in ten days and that he would personally deliver them. Arya bid him farewell and began stepped out of the shop. 

They were only a hundred yards away when Arya turned her head and glared at Ser Barristan. “Why did you bring up that he was a bastard?”

“I meant no disrespect, My Lady. He just…” he trailed off.

“Just what?”

“He was the spitting image of Robert Baratheon in his prime,” Barriston replied, looking back over his shoulder towards the shop.

Arya looked back towards the shop and gave a puzzled look. Her memories of Robert Baratheon were of a fat drunkard. The idea of Gendry being related to him was insane.

Then she thought of the clues. He was the son of a woman at an alehouse in Flea Bottom. He had the same colored eyes as Robert and the same hair. The way those guards on the King’s Road wanted him. It was all adding up. “Seven hells…” Arya muttered to herself, coming to the realization. “I- He needs to know!”

Arya started to turn back towards the shop but was stopped by Ser Barristan stepping in her path. “Did you not hear him? He has no wish to know his father.”

“But-“ But what? What would it do to provide Gendry the knowledge of his father? So he would know his father was a drunk and had countless other bastards across the seven kingdoms. He would know that his father was just a dead king. He would know that he was being hunted just because he was the king’s bastard. Arya realized there wasn’t any real reason for him to know.

“Ser Barristan… We shouldn’t let him know. Even if he does know… there is nothing out there for him unless he is legitimized… But- but that can’t happen, right?”

“Correct. If he is legitimized then it could cause more distrust among the noble houses. He would become the rightful lord of Storm’s End. Edric Storm is already the seated lord and his people love him.”

Arya thought it over. She didn’t think it right but she didn’t wish to be the cause of more strife. Sighing, she nodded at Barriston, “He just wants to be a smith…”

“He just wants to be a smith,” Ser Barristan agreed. “Come. Let us return to the Keep.

 

The next month passed without incident. Arya felt tired from being forced to help with the wedding plans but once it came to it, she was happy to be done with it. Her wedding was the next day in the Godswood. She had refused to hold it in the Great Sept of Baelor. That was where her father had been killed and her father’s gods were hers.

The heart tree still had the carving on its bark but some of it had been filled with a golden colored sap. It was a very poor imitation but it would have to do. Her ceremony was standard and Prince Aegon and Arya shared a kiss before she was draped in a black cloak with the Targaryen sigil. Then came her crown. Prince Aegon had placed a silver crown upon her head that was adorned with diamonds and rubies. The colors of the North and South. Fire and Ice.

She was now Princess Arya of the Seven Kingdoms. The thought made her feel a bit sick but she had to keep a straight face. She was expected to be courteous today.

The feast was far more enjoyable. There were several courses of both Northern and Southern dishes. Black bread and stew, ale, and salted meats filled multiple plates and brought warmth to Arya’s heart. Other dishes included spiced wines, roasted meats, fruit pies were more flavorful dishes and were sought by more guests. Aegon and Arya made sure to try both types of dishes and made idle conversation as the gifts were brought forth.

Most of the gifts were from minor nobles who presented fine silks or wines. Some gave weapons but they were not the ones Arya was wanting. After a while, she saw him milling about with two parcels carefully wrapped in leather. He was casually sipping out of a goblet while keeping his gifts tucked safely against his side. His clothes were more suited for his location. She thought Gendry almost looked liked a Lord. If it wasn’t for his messy hair, she probably would have mistaken him for one.

After a few more people passed through, he stepped forward and placed the two leather wrapped swords on the table in front of the newlywed couple. “I am Gendry Waters, a master smith on the Street of Steel. As you know, Your Grace, I have made you armor in the past. Today, I present both the Prince and Princess with gifts.”

Arya had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes at the way he was talking. He sounded stupid, but he was just trying to look like he belonged. He took the larger of the two out first and presented it to Aegon. It was the sword that had been designed by Arya and Ser Barristan, but something about it was different. In the light, it shone with a smokiness to it. It looked like…

“Crafted of Valyrian Steel, Your Grace,” Gendry said.

Arya looked back to Gendry with a shock. When she had made those plans, she had no idea that he had the ability to craft something like that.

“How did you come by this steel?” Arya blurted from her spot on the dais.

Aegon placed a hand on her wrist but Gendry continued to speak. “I made it. A few years ago, a small library was discovered north of Valyria. It had stayed safe from the Doom, and it had several books on the Valyrians and their practices. In those, there were the secrets of crafting Valyrian Steel. It is difficult work and takes nearly a week of nonstop work on one sword, but it can be done. I am currently one of only three smiths in King’s Landing with the knowledge.”

Arya was surprised by the revelation and looked at the other sword on the table. It was hers and she just knew it too would be Valyrian.

“What shall you name it, Your Grace?” Arya heard someone shout.

Aegon stayed quiet for nearly a full minute before standing to his feet and holding the sword above his head. “Balerion!” He shouted.

A few people took up the chant of the name. Arya smiled to herself. No wonder he had picked that name. With the black dragon pommel, the black diamond, and the smoky color of the sword… Of course he would name it after the famous dragon.

When her own sword was presented, she was happy to know her prediction about it was true. Another Valyrian Steel blade. The wolf pommel and blue diamond made her think. She thought of her family and what it was. The sword was almost as long as Aegon’s but it would still be hidden in her skirts if she wanted. Standing to her feet, she held it in left hand above her head. “Ice!”

She heard less people take up this chant, but she thought it due to her being a woman. Most still frowned on the women who used swords. She didn’t care for them. She had her piece of the North and her father with her now.

 

Months passed and Arya and Aegon would grow closer. He was funny and would practice her sword work often. They would sometimes spend their time in the Godswood or wandering the Red Keep. Their conversations would be about their travels and what sort of things they would accomplish. Sometimes they would dine with the Queen and speak in Valyrian and Dothraki, but not the common tongue.

Almost a year after their marriage, Arya and Aegon received a raven from Winterfell. They were being invited to a wedding. Arya almost laughed when she read the names but also happiness for her sister. There was someone for everyone. Even if they did smell like a dog every now and then.

The day Arya and Aegon were set to depart for her sister’s wedding, she felt a sickness creep over her entire body. She had spent several minutes in the privy to empty her stomach before they left. She thought nothing of it but it continued for several days in a row till the point Aegon started to worry.

Aegon had made the party stop for several days while a maester was fetched for Arya. He had barely even talked or looked at Arya before smiling. “Looks like the Princess will be expecting their first.”

Hearing those words made Arya’s face drain of color. She was pregnant? Her and Aegon had been trying but hearing it being confirmed was still a shock. After the maester had left, Arya rode in silence next to Aegon. She was scared but she could do this. She had done so many things she thought wouldn’t be possible. This was just another journey for her and she always came out fine. 

Arya’s past was behind her, but the future of her family was looking better and better.


End file.
